A Poem a Day (597): Blue azure

 
Blue azure 

Blue azure cracks in saturation spent,
seeps out through the edges. Histories etched in
streaks of sea and sky explode in full colour,
welding canvas, seeping in, aquamarine tears.
 
Dusted rays glimmer with a distant light, bed
down in places we never knew were occupied,
the bent-over vessel empties, the tide turning out,
ashes slides, submerged, a portrait unpainted.
Here, wealth is water, a thing so pure and simple.
 
In these skinny mirrors the dark does not reflect,
but its character lingers, negativity in relapse.
We sense night where we least suspect it,
worn Venetian masks vanish in trim alleyways.
 
Skewed headlights slink fast, streak the rain, pools of
haze reflected, seep in, swirl out on a raft of knowing.
We turn a corner. Metal eyes. And another. Metal eyes.
Change our way, spot three more. Double-back to four.
A turn, & one perches, angled out, the uninvited guest.
We wait out this déjà vu. Three at once, near-collide.
July 11, 109 in 20 minutes in the quiet zone.

And still. Departed. There is space between 8 spindly trees,
bark arms wide. Tall. The rush, a yawn of air sings free,
this spacious sense of green trails through our fingers,
sensing. Blossom travels, pink petals warm our path,
scent the way. And we are outside it all, looking in.

Copyright, Vickie Johnstone, July 31, 2023